Ravings of a Madwoman
by Iori Branford
Summary: Terra's first go at pseudojournalistic writing. Reposted due to that bug which displayed the document properties.


_Hajimemashite._

As the latest addition to the lot of crackheads that comprise the staff of the Nikeah Herald, I am currently engaged in the arduous task of waiting for my brain to piece together a proper introduction. I don't have one in mind already because I neither wanted nor expected to end up in this line of work, and how many beginning writers can you think of who can spill their guts in five minutes? (That's a figure of speech, for all you morons gagging at the thought of my intestinal tract lying in a heap on top of my keyboard.)

So…I'll start with my name. My name is Terra Branford. Now that that's out of the way…

Um, give me a minute here…okay, how's this? I'll briefly fill you in on what's happened and what I've been up to since Lord Kefka was dethroned.

Unless you've been living under a pile of rubble these past two years, you all know what happened to Lord Kefka, I'm sure. Yes, I led the band of fourteen eager, idealistic young misfits that reenacted the famous stabbing scene from _Julius Caesar_ (i.e. conducted a not-so-scientific experiment to find out what was the longest sharp implement that would fit into each orifice of his body). No, I do _not_ want a statue of me in the town square for pigeons to crap on; no, I do _not_ want any damn Nobel Peace Prize; no, I do _not _want my own damn constellation in the sky. Most of all, I do _not_ want to be hounded for the rest of my life by hormone-happy fanboys with the collective IQ of a plunger. I _like_ my anonymity, thank you very much. Less paparazzo to trip over.

Anyway, after that little victory, I made the noble yet ill-advised decision to make my living helping out at the crude orphanage in Mobliz. This was noble in that I spent a lot of time with a lot of children; it was ill advised in that I spent a lot of time with a lot of children. Oh sure, they're a excellent source of joy and companionship – _for about ten minutes, _after which all one gets out of them is a near-fatal stress-induced brain aneurysm. (I can just see all you new parents nodding your heads and thinking, "She is _so _right." Locke, Celes, if you're reading this, fess up; you know how I felt.)

Well, at least that's what happened to me. I'm rather fuzzy on all the details, but it happened one night at 1 AM when I was trying to sleep. I sighed, and my body was in the process of going into Standby mode, when—

"_Aunt Terra!"_

**Standby mode interrupted [EKG goes dee…dee…]**

"Yawn…yeah?"

_"Benimaru wet the bed and it's spreading to my side!!!"_

_"Mine too! Now _I'm _all wet!!!"_

_"Please please please change our sheets, Aunt Terra!!!"_

**Input approaching limit [dee, dee, dee]**

_"Aunt Terra, make Shingo quit snoring!"_

_"Shut up! You were, too!"_

**Warning: overload imminent! [dee-dee-dee-dee-dee]**

_"Aunt Terra, can you hear me? My pajamas are getting all AH YE GODS THERE'S A PUDDLE SPREADING ALL OVER THE FLOOR—"_

**DANGER! Pipeline burst detected! [_dee! Dee! Dee! Dee!_]**

**CEASE ALL OPERATIONS; COMMENCE EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN**

_"PLEASE, Aunt Terra, he's getting louder and louder—"_

**SHUTDOWN IN 5…4… [dee, dee, dee]**

_"Aunt Terra, _PLEASE!!!!"

**3…2… [dee…dee…]**

_"Aunt Terra—"_

**1… [_deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…_]**

"Shit, we're losing her!"

"Could you pass me the, uh, knife-looking thingy over there, please?"

"Here…whoops. Has anyone survived 500ml of that?"

"I don't know, let's check page 47…damn! Someone tore out page 47!"

"Hey, if she _doesn't_ make it, I hear there's big money in kidneys. Heck, this bitch has _two!_"

"No, save them. We'll need them for the autopsy. Hey, what are you doing with that?"

"O Great Lord of Darkness, accept our humble sacrifice…"

(NOTE TO IRATE MEDICAL PRACTITIONERS: I am JUST KIDDING! Sure, the surgeons who worked their magic on me may have been complete lunatics, but they _did _save my life.)

When I finally woke up, the doctor explained that I had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, or in idiot layman's terms, popped a blood vessel in my brain, spilling precious red fluid all over the place in my head. Don't ask me _how _they fixed this, or how I survived, but whatever they did, I am alive because of it, for which I owe those surgeons a big debt of gratitude. 

That is _not _how I felt immediately after the surgery.

"_Oh, ye gods, my **HEAD!!!**_" I tried to scream. Judging from the doctor's confused expression, it came out as, "Hhhuhhuhuhhhhhhhggghghgh."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hhhuhhuhuhhhhhhhggghghgh," was all I could get out.

Starting from that day, it took me two months to recover, during which the pain in my head was such that the following was pretty much the extent of my vocabulary:

**Common Recovering-from-cerebral-hemorrhage-ean**

Hello. Hhhuhhuhuhhhhhhhggghghgh.

Goodbye. Hhhuhhuhuhhhhhhhggghghgh.

I'm hungry. Hhhuhhuhuhhhhhhhggghghgh.

Yes, you may have both my kidneys. Hhhuhhuhuhhhhhhhggghghgh.

And yet, for some reason, I remember those two months quite vividly. Not that anything particularly noteworthy occurred during those two months; they mostly involved bathing, dressing, undressing, and making exciting underwear. (Just kidding about the underwear.)

Anyways… (What's that? I'm almost at my space limit? Damn.) Well, I'd love to tell you more, but my asshole editor says I've written enough, so check back on this space next week, or maybe next month, and I'll finish up my story on how I ended up in this den of nutcases we call the staff of the Nikeah Herald.

So…ja. Ganbaru ne.


End file.
